that hid the shoes, but today was important. Today was worth the boring outfit and the über-tasteful pearl necklace.
Her town was weird enough. Not to mention the house.
She could admit it now. She'd been a bit nervous about this listing. It was the best house in Banshee Creek, but even the locals gave it wide berth. Luckily, her mom had come up with an out-of-town client with an enormous budget and only one requirement: size.
That was weird. In her experience, Banshee Creek buyers seldom focused on the square footage. Usually they asked a lot of questions about the, er, provenance of the house. And out-of-town clients were rare, very rare. A wealthy, undiscriminating, out-of-town purchaser... Hmm, who could fit that bill?
One name came instantly to mind. But surely her mom would have told her...
The theme song for HGTV's House Hunters chirped merrily from the depths of her purse. Her eyes widened in surprise. She checked the screen to verify, but yes, her mom was calling. That meant that, after months of sofa-induced lethargy, her mother was actually focusing on work. Elizabeth could hardly contain her glee as she took the call.
"Hi, sweetie," her mom said. "I just want to check on how things are going." Not since Elizabeth had taken charge of the office almost two years ago had her mom asked how things were going. Not once.
She smiled. Maybe this was a sign of recovery. "Everything's great," she answered, her voice upbeat. "I'm just looking through the house."
"Excellent. Remember to turn on the lights."
Elizabeth's smile grew broader. Her mom always reminded her to turn on the lights, an age-old real estate trick that made the house look cheerier. She felt a bright spark of hope. This sounded like her mom, not the broken old woman who looked like her mom but lay on the sofa all day.
"I really appreciate this, sweetie. Doing a showing in such short notice. I mean, I know you're rather busy trying to sell Holly's house."
Elizabeth's eyes narrowed. Her mom's contrite tone was, to put it mildly, strange. Even depressed, her mom never apologized. "I'm happy to do it," she replied, choosing her words with care. "I'm curious about this new client. How did you find out about him?"
"Oh, it's a referral."
Her suspicions deepened. Banshee Creek Realty seldom got referrals, and when they did, it was usually Canadian movie scouts looking for a horror film locale.
"That's interesting," she said in the same careful tone. "Maybe someone with family in the area?"
"I don't know, Elizabeth. Finding that out is your job, isn't it?" her mom asked pointedly. "And where are you, anyway? You didn't send me the MLS listing."
Elizabeth winced. Yep, that scold sounded more like her mom. Definitely a sign of recovery. And her mom was checking MLS? Great news. But if she wasn't going to come clean, then Elizabeth could definitely return the favor. It was time for, as the paranormies would put it, evasive maneuvers. "I'm showing the client the best house we have in inventory," she said. "You said he doesn't want to waste any time, right?"
"Right." Another pause. "Our best house, you say? Gosh, I haven't looked at our inventory in so long. Which one is that, exactly?"
"Sorry, Mom, the client is here and I have to go. I'll fill you in when I'm done." Elizabeth cut the call quickly before she lost her temper and started screaming at her invalid, yet still highly deceptive mother.
She shouldn't jump to conclusions. There was still a chance, albeit a small one, that her prospective buyer wasn't Gabe. There could be another fabulously rich man in town looking for a house. It wasn't completely out of the question.
Yeah, right.
Elizabeth looked at the house, trying to picture it as the abode of a reclusive, backstabbing, arrogant quasi-billionaire, and nodded in satisfaction. It actually fit the bill nicely. It was big, it was luxurious, and it was intimidating. She should be able to sell it to Gabe. There was that one
Her town was weird enough. Not to mention the house.
She could admit it now. She'd been a bit nervous about this listing. It was the best house in Banshee Creek, but even the locals gave it wide berth. Luckily, her mom had come up with an out-of-town client with an enormous budget and only one requirement: size.
That was weird. In her experience, Banshee Creek buyers seldom focused on the square footage. Usually they asked a lot of questions about the, er, provenance of the house. And out-of-town clients were rare, very rare. A wealthy, undiscriminating, out-of-town purchaser... Hmm, who could fit that bill?
One name came instantly to mind. But surely her mom would have told her...
The theme song for HGTV's House Hunters chirped merrily from the depths of her purse. Her eyes widened in surprise. She checked the screen to verify, but yes, her mom was calling. That meant that, after months of sofa-induced lethargy, her mother was actually focusing on work. Elizabeth could hardly contain her glee as she took the call.
"Hi, sweetie," her mom said. "I just want to check on how things are going." Not since Elizabeth had taken charge of the office almost two years ago had her mom asked how things were going. Not once.
She smiled. Maybe this was a sign of recovery. "Everything's great," she answered, her voice upbeat. "I'm just looking through the house."
"Excellent. Remember to turn on the lights."
Elizabeth's smile grew broader. Her mom always reminded her to turn on the lights, an age-old real estate trick that made the house look cheerier. She felt a bright spark of hope. This sounded like her mom, not the broken old woman who looked like her mom but lay on the sofa all day.
"I really appreciate this, sweetie. Doing a showing in such short notice. I mean, I know you're rather busy trying to sell Holly's house."
Elizabeth's eyes narrowed. Her mom's contrite tone was, to put it mildly, strange. Even depressed, her mom never apologized. "I'm happy to do it," she replied, choosing her words with care. "I'm curious about this new client. How did you find out about him?"
"Oh, it's a referral."
Her suspicions deepened. Banshee Creek Realty seldom got referrals, and when they did, it was usually Canadian movie scouts looking for a horror film locale.
"That's interesting," she said in the same careful tone. "Maybe someone with family in the area?"
"I don't know, Elizabeth. Finding that out is your job, isn't it?" her mom asked pointedly. "And where are you, anyway? You didn't send me the MLS listing."
Elizabeth winced. Yep, that scold sounded more like her mom. Definitely a sign of recovery. And her mom was checking MLS? Great news. But if she wasn't going to come clean, then Elizabeth could definitely return the favor. It was time for, as the paranormies would put it, evasive maneuvers. "I'm showing the client the best house we have in inventory," she said. "You said he doesn't want to waste any time, right?"
"Right." Another pause. "Our best house, you say? Gosh, I haven't looked at our inventory in so long. Which one is that, exactly?"
"Sorry, Mom, the client is here and I have to go. I'll fill you in when I'm done." Elizabeth cut the call quickly before she lost her temper and started screaming at her invalid, yet still highly deceptive mother.
She shouldn't jump to conclusions. There was still a chance, albeit a small one, that her prospective buyer wasn't Gabe. There could be another fabulously rich man in town looking for a house. It wasn't completely out of the question.
Yeah, right.
Elizabeth looked at the house, trying to picture it as the abode of a reclusive, backstabbing, arrogant quasi-billionaire, and nodded in satisfaction. It actually fit the bill nicely. It was big, it was luxurious, and it was intimidating. She should be able to sell it to Gabe. There was that one
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